Thoughts Of A Mouser
by Great Greedy Guts
Summary: Sylvester's thoughts about the 'Giant Mouse' episodes. Rated PG for somewhat violent description.
1. To Find A Mouse

A/N: Hey, another fic, this time a very serious one. It's set during a 'Bugs Bunny' episode, and is from Sylvester's POV. Enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Thoughts Of A Mouser  
  
  
  
I looked back at my son as I slowly pawed across the floor. "Now listen up son. I'm going to go and show you how to catch a mouse, then you try? Alright?" "Yes Father." He answered me, in a respectful tone.  
  
I grinned and crouched down next to the mouse hole. Slowly the mouse poked his head out. He sniffed the air, and, apparently satisfied, cautiously moved away from his home. I slammed my paw down in front of the hole, and he turned around, startled by the noise. He saw me and, giving a large squeak, turned tail and ran. I leapt up and dashed down the hall after him. Slowly but surely, I was gaining. Ducking under another chair and leaping over a footstool, I noticed the room we had entered was full of old crates, but this did not deter me. Even though he ran between the boxes, over and under them as well, I doggedly (or, more accurately, cattedly) pursued my prey. Finally he ran into a crate. I quickly checked for other exits, but this was the only one. I hurriedly blocked it up with a piece of wood from the ground.  
  
I searched the area for something to pry the crate open, and after a long search, I found a crowbar off to the side. Slowly I opened the box, and the side fell to the floor, raising a cloud of dust. Coughing, I tossed the crowbar to the side, immediately wishing I hadn't.  
  
For standing in the crate, was the biggest mouse I had ever seen.  
  
Good? Bad? Please review, or else I might discontinue it. I know it can be a hassle and I myself rarely review but if you do, NO FLAMES SIL VOUS PLAIT! 


	2. To Fight A Mouse

A/N: My fastest update. Yay. Enjoy.  
  
Thoughts Of A Mouser  
  
I gulped. Then yelled, screamed, shouted, wailed, cried, and yelped. In that order. After all of this I turned tail and ran. And where did I run? Straight into a wall.  
  
Oddly enough, when I lost my senses, I gained some too. I remembered what my uncle had told me, when I was a young pussycat. 'Remember, the opposition always seems big at first, especially somewhere new. But no mouse is no match for no cat. So get in there and catch the little squeaker.'  
  
I got to my feet. "No mouse is no match for no cat!" I repeated, and raced back at the thing, claws bared. 'But for a wee little thing, it is awfully big.' I pushed that thought from my head and pounced on it, scratching and biting. Or at least attempted to. It caught me in it's hands and rolled onto it's back, kicking at me with it's back legs. Every blow was like a searing torch of pain had been smashed against my body. Repeatedly. As in many times. In one spot. The pain was unbearable, and finally it kicked again sending me into the wall.  
  
"I'll charge it this time." I declared, and ran at it shoulder out, the way one would break down a door. And I hit. the pile of crates were awfully hard. Turning wildly I saw it just to my side. Spinning at it I let seven punches loose at it. Not a one hit. It jumped and ducked and dodged every last one of them. I cringed in terror as it flung it's fist at my, sending me spiraling into the crates, and sending them down on top of me. I was in pain. In pain and beaten. By a mouse.  
  
Standing up through the pain and boxes I swiped feebly at it, hopes racing that my son was safe, that he wouldn't see his Pa in his defeat by a mouse. A wee little mouse. Such a small thing. Despair and anger enshrouded my heart, where once there had been pride. "Stand still!" I cried at it. Attempting to whistle the song Ma had sung me, instead I heard a loud whistle, much too high. I sighed again, eyes shut in pain. I couldn't even move. My body was on fire and I didn't even have the ability to whistle a song. Such a small thing, a mouse. I attempted to open my eyes, and there was the great thing, standing over me. I shakily managed to get to a sitting position, and then finally stood. I got to my feet and once again tried a feeble punch, just as my son came in. Once again I tried to whistle, and once again I heard the high note.  
  
Suddenly it turned and ran. New power filled me. I'd scared it. Mustn't let my son down. I ran after it. "Get back here you!" I yelled in a pained voice.  
  
Eventually I lost it. I saw my son coming up to this room. I grinned, or grimaced, I don't remember. But I knew I yelled. "Take that! Come bother me again, and I won't go so easy on ya! I'll give you the same again!"  
  
"Wow father. You beat that giant mouse. That was very noble of you, giving it an advantage." He trailed off. I smiled at him and said as proudly as I could as we walked home. "Y'know son. I'm sorry that you didn't get to catch a mouse, or see your dad fight that thing. But all in all, I'd say it was worth it. In fact I wish that thing had been twice as tall, with two heads and four arms, I would really give it what for!"  
  
Later it occurred to me I may wish to take up another hobby as an addition to muse hunting. Like bird catching. Yes, that sounded easy enough, not as traditional, but still good. Yes, I shouldn't have a problem. 


End file.
